23 September 1922

6 Pond Street, Hampstead, London

Chad's letter, which accompanied yours sounded very cheerful and busy. Fancy a dance at the Trinders! Quite an occasion.
I wondered whether Captain A., Charles' friend, had an eye on Chad. That's the worst of matchmaking. Once it is started one sees an interesting meaning in every simple statement. But I so much dislike people who do that, that I shall curb my imagination.
Dearest, what very bad luck that your indigestion should have returned. Also that your hand should be giving you gyp. I hope you give that hand and finger sun treatment on the way out - keep it exposed to the sun. I am sure there is nothing more powerful. Perhaps, I do sincerely hope, your indigestion will disappear as you are more rested.
Poor Jack's neck is giving him a very bad time. The boil developed into a carbuncle, and now another has declared itself at the very back of the neck. Sorapure seems to think he is in for a series. In the meantime, Jack, with his neck swathed in a large silk handkerchief; looks like a depressed burglar. They are very painful things, though. [To Harold Beauchamp, 27 September 1922.]